Like Evil Peas In A Pod
by NerdySpaceBean
Summary: When Willow and Tara practise a spell to get rid of all the monsters in Sunnydale, it goes badly wrong. How will Spike cope in the not-so distant future when in the company of a similar demon? And how will he return to his own time? Set in season 4 of Buffy and season 9 of Spn. (Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Supernatural, or any of the characters.)
1. Spell Gone Awry

**A/N:**

**Welcome to another fanfic of mine! Sorry for all the random short Spn crossovers, but this one is longer than a one-shot, I promise. I've been obsessed with Buffy recently, and I'm literally in love with Spike, so when I kept thinking to myself how similar he is to Crowley, I planned this fic pretty quickly. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Willow Rosenberg found herself perched melancholically alone on the edge of her dorm room bed at night (around 11pm) once again. Although Buffy was out patrolling as usual, and her best friend knew she couldn't complain about that, Willow knew that the slayer would be with Riley, therefore it was likely that the two loved-up monster fighters would end up spending the night in Riley's dorm rather than going their separate ways. Thinking about it, Willow realised that it would be so much easier for the couple if patrolling and slaying was out of the picture. That way, they could relax more together, which could further lead to Buffy being able to spend more time with Willow and the rest of the Scooby gang if she had more time on her hands. Then again, the slayer might just use that extra time for being with Riley all the more. Still, it would be so much better, a world without having to spend each day battling demons; a world without demons and vampires and monsters in general... Sure, Giles would sort of be out of a job (or hobby, as would be a more suitable noun nowadays), but the gang would still hang out - it's not like demons were ever the only thing keeping them being friends, right? Nothing would really change. It would just mean that Buffy would have more time to relax and lead a normal life without the inhabitants of Sunnydale being in fear for their safety and, more often than not, their very lives. Yes, it was a practically flawless plan...

The only problem Willow could think of was how to go about putting her 'plan' into action. Her witchy powers were growing ever-stronger, plus she now had Tara to help with that if she didn't think she was powerful enough alone, or if the spell required a minimum of one person. Willow figured there would be a spell for banishing demons out there somewhere, and she had the sufficient resources to search for it. All she needed to do now was find the right spell, and the correct ingredients.

A couple of hours later, after scouring her entire book collection (the magic ones, at least) and gathering a few selected items, Willow stood outside Tara's dorm room, positively bubbling with enthusiasm. Immediately following a few light taps from Willow so as to alert her fellow Wicca to her presence, the door swung open gently to reveal the small, shy frame of Tara.

"Oh! W-Willow!" She stammered in her constantly anxious manner, yet she seemed more than content of the sight of her Wiccan friend.

"Hey, Tara. Sorry, I know it's late, but I just got an idea for a spell I'd like us to try, i-if you don't mind..." Willow replied, a smile rapidly stretching across her radiant face.

"Sure, don't worry about it! C-come in." Tara stepped back to let her friend know she was always invited, however Willow didn't come forth as she normally did. Her innocent face clouded by confusion, Tara tilted her head slightly to one side, instantly conveying her unasked questions. Understanding straight away, Willow hastily jumped to an explanation.

"I would. Come in, I mean. It's just... Well I thought the spell might work better in my room - n-not that yours isn't good for spells or anything... I just thought, 'cause Buffy's out - it's looking like she will be all night, so..." She trailed off, gazing up at Tara for her opinion.

"Yeah, of course. It's okay. Do you... Do you want me to bring anything over?" It was fairly obvious from the outset that the girl would agree with Willow.

"Oh! Er... There is a couple things, but not much." Willow showed her friend a short list shortly before Tara agreed to meet her back in her dorm room in ten minutes.

"...That's generally how the spell goes, I guess. You ready?" Encompassed by an almost-perfect circle of lit candles, the two wiccans sat cross-legged in the centre of a rug. They were facing each other, and a few herbs sprinkled over some Tarot cards lay between them. Willow had just finished instructing Tara and describing all the ins and outs of the spell. The only thing left was to start it.

In answer to Willow's question, Tara eagerly nodded her head, smiling timidly.

"Okay... Here we go." Willow stated, the corners of her mouth upturned in reply to her friend's grin. At that instigative phrase, the two girls held each other's hands, forming a raised circle of which they were both a crucial part, before closing their eyes in a meditative manner; Tara was slightly later than Willow in doing so. These actions were pursued by a soft chanting, which the wiccans took in turn speaking. They'd almost reached the end of the spell when the door to their current dorm room practically burst from its hinges. In came an instantly recognisable vampire, with slicked-back platinum blonde hair and perfect sleek cheekbones, clad in black clothes and a more prominent long black leather coat. Not wasting any time, he began to speak before he even noticed who was in the room and, more significantly, what they were doing. The wiccans carried on their spell for a short while, therefore they didn't even realise the vampire was talking.

"Hey, Red, you seen Buffy anywhere?" Spike inquired in his typical English accent. "I need to- Wait a second, what are you-"

He was cut off when Willow's eyes abruptly flew open in surprise and brief panic. However, she refrained from shouting anything, as she was well aware that interrupting the flow of the spell could alter the energy, furthermore could prove fatal. Unbeknownst to her, they had already performed all that was required - the spell was practically complete by now.

Tara, knowing that her friend's immediate goal was to finish the spell, hurriedly cast the final herbs over the candles and uttered an incantation that would tie up any loose ends without thinking. Sparks flew as the candles instantaneously burned up. The scattered herbs and Tarot cards began to levitate and whiz around the room. All Willow could do was watch. Well, all any of them could do was watch.

"Hey!" Spike yelled spontaneously, looking rather put out - okay, that doesn't really cover it since he's an 'evil' vampire and all, but the general idea is that he wasn't happy. Also, the herbs and excess light from the candles seemed to be gravitating towards him, which wasn't a good sign. "Hey, get these things off me!" He continued, proceeding to flap his arms about in panic.

"Spike! I-I'm sorry, I don't know how to stop it!" Willow shouted back above the ruckus, her failed consolation only resulting in infuriating Spike even further.

"Oh, bloo-" Before the vampire could even finish his infamously English curse, he vanished. Just, poof. One second, his boisterous, some may say irritating personality was filling the room, the next, he was gone.

Everything went quiet. All the Tarot cards and herbs and strange lights dropped to the floor or simply disappeared entirely. It was all back to normal. Well, apart from the fact that a vampire had literally just teleported away from Buffy and Willow's dorm room as a result of the magic, of course.

Tara and Willow simply stood completely still and silent for a few moments before simultaneously turning to stare at each other.

"Oops." Willow muttered. She had no idea what she'd just done.


	2. A Whole New World (Or Is It?)

"-dy hell!" The vampire exclaimed - he did manage to finish his sentence after all. "Wait a minute..." Glancing around, Spike rapidly realised he was no longer in the college dorm room of some demon-killing freshmen. It was dark, fortunately for him, since he was most definitely outside; a tunnel of mouldy brick curved over his head, and a bitterly cold breeze swept through (not that he could feel it, being cold-blooded and all) suggesting he was in some kind of alleyway. The point is, Spike was in extremely unfamiliar surroundings. And if there was one thing that vampire despised, aside from the slayer, it was not knowing what was going on.

"Oh, curse that red-haired Wicca and her girlfriend! I swear, once I get this damn chip out of my head, Red'll be the first to get bit. Damnit!" Unable to keep his rage on reigns, Spike punched the brick wall in an eruption of fury - partly as a way of displaying his anger, but also because inanimate objects were hittable for him, which naturally made him feel powerful. You can't blame the guy. He was going through a part of his long life where he desperately needed to top up his ego quite often.

Figuring that he should probably find out where he was and what that spell had done, the vampire rolled his eyes in annoyance one last time before strolling blatantly out of the alley. That was the main difference between Spike and other vampires/demons/monsters and humans - he was rarely ever subtle. He didn't care if others saw him, because he was so confident in himself that he knew he could just knock them out if they tried anything funny. Come to think of it, he was very similar to Buffy in that sense.

When Spike emerged from the alley, he spent another few seconds drinking in the atmosphere in the close vicinity. Not literally. The area he was in looked fairly alike to outside The Bronze, back in Sunnydale: there was the delightfully large number of side streets, perfect for dragging vulnerable humans in to consume (or just turn), littered with trash cans and broken glass; there was a few shops still open with flashing fluorescent signs; there was the buildings at the other end of the spectrum, infected with wood rot, boarded up and smothered in garish shades of graffiti. It was such a great place to eat out for vampires, but Spike figured his head chip was still functioning, so there was no point even attempting to go for a quick snack. Rounding the corner, he found himself on the high street of wherever he was, therefore proceeded to stride down it, his leather coat billowing behind him dramatically. Once the vampire found himself slightly off the high street, in a side street, but not as inconspicuous as the alleyway side streets, he noticed a building that appealed to him excessively. It was a blood donor unit, connected to the back of a general state hospital.

"Well isn't this lovely." Spike muttered to himself, an undignified insatiable grin spreading across his face instantaneously. "I was getting rather peckish."

Creeping in the back door, the now contented vampire strolled down the corridor, anticipating a hasty knockout scuffle with a human in a white coat, however it never came to be. Just when he was beginning to get a bit disappointed, Spike turned a corner and was confronted by a human already on the ground, a pool of liquid crimson blossoming out from under them, tarnishing the innocent white tiled floor.

"Clearly someone doesn't mess around." The vampire couldn't resist his aloud commentary as his true 'monster face' revealed itself at the sight and irresistible scent of human blood. He bent down to the floor, descending upon the feast laid out before him, yet his head chip kicked in in a brief second, causing an overwhelming headache.

"Oh, come ON! They're not even bloody alive! Seriously?" He growled in frustration, however he stopped in his tracks and was quieted for once when he detected a muffled curse from a room only a mere few steps ahead of him. Approaching the ajar door with an air of confident curiosity, he poked his head around the corner and spotted a small fellow in a similarly long black coat with his back to him, fiddling with a box of blood group AB-negative donor bags.

"Oh, bugger." The man cursed again as he dropped one of the bags, watching helplessly as it slid across the shiny floor. Wasting no more time, Spike leapt into action.

"Ah! I'll take that, thank you very much." The vampire grabbed the blood bag off the floor quick as a flash; the other bloke barely had the chance to whirl around. When he did, Spike looked him up and down, studying him intently. Not only was the guy's coat black, it seemed the rest of the clothes he wore were of the same colour as well. He looked around fifty human years old, although Spike sensed he was far older - the vampire also got a generally evil vibe from him too, both observations causing him to deduce that this man was, in fact, not human. But the guy didn't seem to be in a particularly narcissistic mood at the moment. On the contrary, he appeared to be... emotional. Needy, almost. Normally, Spike wouldn't so much as bat an eyelid in the direction of such a person, yet his sense of orientation had departed still, therefore maybe socialising with species-ambiguous blokes was necessary.

"What are you looking at?" Both men spoke simultaneously, trading equally suspiciously squinty-eyed glares. When they spoke in sync, that only made them narrow their eyes all the more. Following a moment of tense silence, Spike piped up again, changing the subject.

"This blood is pretty damn-"

"Disgusting, if you ask me. I wouldn't bother taking it." The man interrupted, raising his chin overtly in a display of challenging arrogance.

"How nice. I guess I'll stay with it, then." The vampire retorted, also raising his chin and pursing his lips (he had his 'human face' back on at this point, I neglected to mention), so the two of them were partaking in a stand-off of sorts.

"I think you should be leaving, don't you?" Yet again, the men spoke in synchronisation. However, this time, the unknown fellow relaxed into a small smirk, almost as if he were impressed by the blonde-haired impostor. He stuck one hand out, offering a handshake to Spike.

"Name's Crowley. King of Hell. Lovely meeting you."

After a few awkward seconds of hesitation, the vampire slowly reached out his hand and gripped the other man's, shaking it in a 'I'm-guessing-this-is-a-peace-offering-but-I'm-still-obviously-wary-of-you' sort of way.

"Spike." He abruptly introduced himself, refusing to disclose any more information about himself to the man. It was fairly evident that the vampire had trust issues, though he could admittedly feel himself warming to the guy. "King of Hell, eh? You haven't done too bad for yourself. How long you been a vamp, then?" Spike figured he'd jump in at the deep end - after all, he certainly wasn't one to beat around the bush. Plus, it was a pretty valid method of gaining rapid info.

"A vampire?" Crowley's reaction was instant. He was utterly shocked and repelled at being called such a creature. "God, no. I'm a demon. Been this way around... What, 291 years, it must be. You?"

"I'm 126." The vampire immediately turned the conversational questioning back on Crowley. "Demon, huh. Not too fond, personally - I've worked with a few in the past. But I can tell you've got more about you than any old Fyarl demon has. More style, class." Spike found himself unintentionally complimenting the demon, however he meant every word. The guy was pretty cool. The King of Hell seemed to appreciate the vampire's comments, therefore endeavoured to return them.

"You're not too bad yourself. Now," He switched topics quite abruptly. "I was just heading back to my place, and I can tell you're in a bit of a wandering state at the moment. Coming with?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. It's not like I've got anything better to do."

"Allons-y, then." Crowley's mouth upturned a little further at one end as he swept past the vampire, carrying his box of blood, and began to lead the way.

Spike figured he had nothing to lose; he knew he could take the guy in a fight if push came to shove. However, he somehow doubted it would. He liked the demon already.


	3. More Idiots

Back in Sunnydale, it was around half eight in the morning, and the Scooby gang was gathered once again at Giles' house. Willow was looking rather meek, as usual, yet she also felt extremely guilty. She'd already gone through the whole 'share and not so much care, more feel really bad about it while my friends are trying to figure out what to do next', so all there was left to do for her was to sit awkwardly in the midst of all the planning while making humble remarks every now and then. Buffy was currently at centre stage in the discussion.

"Okay, so you and Tara were just about finished, then bam! Spike's there, then he poofed away?" The slayer was always one to clarify the situation.

Willow nodded, cleared her throat and then spoke up. "Yup. I mean, yeah, that's pretty much how it went. So, uh... H-how are we gonna get him back? I can always stop off at the magic shop while you guys do some research and try find a spell - Giles' collection is perfect for that kinda stuff, as you know. Or I can research if you want, I don't really mind..."

"Whoa, slow down Will!" Xander chipped in, eager to get involved. "Why do you even want to bring him back? All he does is chill with us when we don't want him, acting like a pain in the butt making sarcastic comments about us all the time in his stupid British accent - no offence, Giles. I'm just saying, it makes more sense to me to just leave him. It serves him right."

"Xander does have a point." Giles mooched out of his kitchenette, cradling a cup of tea and finally deciding to participate in the conversation. "However it, er, it is Willow's choice, after all. She did perform the spell, t-therefore the decision of what to, er, to do with Spike is up to her."

"Thank you Giles." Willow smiled timidly at the ex-watcher, whose lips flickered slightly in reply. She continued to explain her side of the debate. "I just think it wouldn't be fair if we left him all alone, especially as the spell might have involved partial time travel. Plus he, he does help us out sometimes, right?"

"Well jeez, let me just think about that for a minute, see if I can come round to the idea... Nope, still not getting it." Xander made a show of his sarcasm, to which Giles passively-aggressively rolled his eyes. However, Buffy was quick to jump to her best friend's defence.

"You know what? Bring him back if you feel bad about it. To be honest, I couldn't care less what happens to him, but like Giles said, it's up to you. And I'll go to the magic shop. I need to stop off for some milk anyway." Yet again, Willow smiled at her closest buddies in gratitude. Xander simply shook his head, but made no further comment. Willow grabbed the nearest research book, as did Giles.

"Aww, poor Spike." The still-guilty redhead pined over the vampire. "He won't know anybody wherever he is. He must feel so lonely and afraid..."

* * *

The newly acquainted creatures strolled side by side, chatting animatedly about murdering and/or torturing humans, and which was their preferred method of doing so. It was evident the monstrous duo had clicked straight away, probably because they were similar in so many ways: personality, fashion sense, hobbies, etc. Before long, they'd reached Crowley's abode. Lingering on the doorstep of his motel room, the King of Hell addressed the vampire.

"Sorry it's not all that tidy. I do my best." He apologised, preparing his friend for what lay ahead. Spike simply nodded, gesturing for him to open the door. When he did, two familiar men (familiar to Crowley - Spike had never seen them before) were stood in front of him, looking incredibly disappointed. The demon immediately sighed, his expression switching from his usual confident self to irritated, which was just as natural for him.

"Hello, boys." He greeted them. Spike got the impression that those two words were a catchphrase of sorts for the King of Hell. The vampire's presence didn't yet provoke an alternate conversation, as he waited behind the door, just out of sight from the unknown men. One of the men - the shorter one - briefly kicked the foot of a corpse on the floor and spoke up. This confused Spike, therefore he briefly wondered if he'd been stitched up, however he rapidly dismissed the idea. If he had been, surely Crowley would have shoved him in the room ahead of him while the other two guys tied him up or staked him. Plus, judging by the demon's expression, he harboured an intense disliking of the men.

"And what do you call this?" The short guy asked, his face revealing an equal, if not more extensive hatred of the King of Hell.

"Refreshments?" Crowley replied wittily. Spike couldn't help but silently giggle at his buddy's sass.

"What's in the bag, Crowley?" The taller, moose-like man inquired wearily, as if he was already 100% done with the demon's behaviour, which he certainly was.

"Nothing." The King of Hell retorted evasively, refusing to give anything away.

"Really? Maybe I can, uh..." The gigantic man reached for the bag and hastily tore it open, before Crowley could even react. The AB-negative blood was instantly revealed, along with the utter disgust of the two men.

"What, are you knocking over blood banks?" The same guy who had taken the bag posed a rhetorical question, his voice tainted with incredulity at just how far the demon had gone to get a supply of blood. Wasting no more time, the guy grabbed Crowley's arm roughly. Spike, still observing from the wings, was then faced with two choices: he could intervene and prevent his new mate from potentially getting hurt, which could only result in exacerbating the situation, or he could simply run for the hills, ignore everything that just happened and find another way to get help. However, it seemed that soon enough, the vampire no longer had a choice; just as the two guys were about to handcuff the demon to a chair, The King of Hell opened his big mouth and began to protest.

"Come on, guys. Another situation arose, and is sort of still on-going. I'm sure you'll be interested - I've found a new pal. He's a vampire. Spike?"

The vampire awkwardly stepped around the door, feeling rather vulnerable as the two men looked him up and down in shock.

"Ah, so you stayed. Spike, meet the Winchester brothers." Crowley introduced the vampire. "The tall moose man is Sam, the short not-moose is Dean."

"Er, hi. Are they… human?" Spike inquired, getting the feeling that 'Sam' and 'Dean' weren't particularly evil. Which was sort of disappointing.

"Unfortunately, yes. Hunters, to be more specific. Basically, they kill creatures like us."

"What, like the Slayer?" A glint of terror suddenly flamed in Spike's eyes, however Crowley rapidly extinguished it with his words.

"You don't have to worry – you can trust them. We're friends. Besties, actually. Aren't we, Dean?" The demon explained, gazing up at the 'short, not-moose' guy.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can I just ask, why the hell have you brought a freaking _vampire_ here?" Dean replied, clearly confused. And when Dean Winchester didn't understand what was going on, he tended to get slightly aggressive, especially if a demon was involved. Particularly with Crowley.

"Didn't I mention? He's my friend. So be nice."

"Okay, that's enough. You better tell us what the hell's going on right now, or your 'friend' here will find his head won't be attached to his body for much longer." Drawing some sort of ancient knife, Dean made a threatening step towards Spike, who simultaneously retreated a little.

"Whoa, hold your horses, mate! I haven't tried to kill you yet, doesn't that show you something? Well, I can't actually harm humans, so you're safe. Sadly." The vampire muttered the last word under his breath, but the rest of his words did enough to persuade the Winchester to lower his blade. Once the tension had been mostly drained from the atmosphere, Sam spoke up, taking a significantly more logical approach than his brother.

"Okay, first of all, where are you from? Or when, I don't know if…" He trailed off, however before Spike could answer, Dean cut in.

"Probably the 90's, judging by his leather coat. Nice look, by the way, Neo."

"I believe it was 2000, actually, but never mind." The vampire then looked down at his coat, as if trying to figure out what looked wrong about it. "And who's this Neo bloke? Are you referencing The Matrix? Bloody terrible film, I went to see it when I was bored. Anyway, if he's stolen my outfit, I'll rip his bloody throat out!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you couldn't hurt humans?" Dean interrupted again. Spike instantly began to detest the guy, glaring at him from across the room; he reminded him of Buffy too much, with her smart-Alec remarks and her sharp tongue when it came to demons or vampires. Sam hastily continued to explain the situation, forcing his brother to keep his mouth shut. He always was the clever one.

"It doesn't matter – look, man, you're fourteen years in the future. Things probably haven't changed massively, but-"

"Oh, spare me the lecture, professor." Although Sam had far more tact than his brother, the vampire decided he didn't particularly like him either. They were both human, therefore enemies, even if they were trying to help. "Quite frankly, I couldn't give two hoots what year it is – I just wanna get back to 2000 with my gang of absolute losers, no matter how pathetic they are, alright?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, in the duration of which, Dean seemed to not want to help Spike, yet Sam figured they should, if only to get him out of the way so they could get back to their normal lives, with which Dean reluctantly agreed. Crowley simply sat there, smirking at his new friend in awe, seemingly extremely impressed with the way in which he spoke back to the Winchesters. The vampire himself stood there, wearily anticipating an answer.

"I like him." Crowley remarked.

"You shut your cakehole, Crowley." The shorter Winchester growled, then turned to Spike. "Okay, fine, we'll help you out." Dean finally agreed. Sam let out a long breath he had been holding in and Spike smiled slightly in gratitude. But not too much; he didn't want them thinking he actually liked them. Dean continued, clarifying some points that he figured the vampire (and Crowley) could use as loopholes. "But we have a few rules around here that you're gonna have to abide by…"


	4. Natural Tension

A vampire from the past, the King of Hell and two hunters walked out of a motel room. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. And even then, that was leaving out some of the most ridiculous details. Sam and Dean had mutually made the decision to travel back to the bunker, since there lie the resources to search for a way to get Spike back to his own time, plus they were also planning on chaining Crowley up again in their dungeon afterwards, though they obviously didn't tell him that. As they hurried to check out of the motel and across the car park towards the Impala, tension already began to build up again simply through Spike making casual conversation and Dean getting all the more irritated with him. It went something along the lines of this:

"Wait a second, if this is 2014, then I must be turning 140 this year! Quite the milestone, if I say so myself. Though it's probably nothing to you, Crowley, what with you being almost 300." The vampire began.

"Why thank you. Despite being a young monster, you seem to be doing well for yourself. You impressed me, anyway." The demon replied, smirking almost seductively back at Spike. Glancing disbelievingly over at them, Dean rolled his eyes.

"Will you two quit flirting? Seriously, it's disturbing." The older Winchester grumbled in his usual snarky tone. Crowley opened his mouth to make some witty comeback, no doubt, however his new buddy just got there first.

"Oh shut up, you pompous idiot. Honestly, you slayers are all the same." His comment clearly caused an advanced degree of confusion amongst the group, as they all turned to stare at him with puzzled expressions on their strange faces. Sam was the first to question the vamp.

"What are you taking about, 'slayers'? My brother's not a slayer. At least, I don't think so..." He gave Dean a 'is-there-something-you're-not-telling-me' glare, yet the older brother shrugged in reply; it was evident he had no idea what Spike was talking about either. The vampire himself, on the other hand, seemed just as bewildered.

"What, you're telling me you supposed demon killers don't know what a slayer is?" Sam and Dean remained completely blank. "Blimey. So, only fourteen years in the future, slayers can be men, but their watchers don't tell them anything about what they are, is that it? Who is your watcher, anyway? Giles may be dull, but at least he's useful-"

"Look, man, I have no idea what you're saying, but there's no such thing as a slayer where we come from. We're hunters - we fight evil and save the good people. I'm guessing slayers are your version of hunters where you're from, which is beginning to sound like an alternate universe." Sam interrupted, ensuring all confusion was more or less cleared up.

"I don't really care where he's from, so long as he gets back there, and soon." Dean complained gruffly, forcefully wrenching open the driver's door of his beloved car as they approached it. Before he stepped in, he stated the general rules of riding in the Impala.

"Sam rides shotgun, no arguments. Spike and Crowley, you get in the back and try to keep quiet. No spilling anything, no ruining the seats, no trashing the car in general. No dogs, in case you were thinking of summoning any. And absolutely no complaining about my music. We clear?"

"As crystal." Spike smiled patronisingly. Just as he prepared to climb on in, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Swivelling round, he soon realised it was still Dean, who had a particularly suspicious expression aimed at the vampire.

"Oh, what is it now?"

"Do I... know you?"

"Really? I've just arrived in your bloody time and you're wondering if I've ever shown my face before?"

"No, it's just... You look familiar..." Following an inquisitive glance from Sam, the older Winchester continued his explanation. "Prosperity, Indiana. The, the witchy case, with the, uh, married couple. Don and Maggie Stark? You know, the ones who needed serious marriage counselling, who nearly killed us. With bees. Ringing any bells?"

"Oh! Yeah... Uh, I don't know? I sort of see it, I guess." Sam furrowed his brow, wondering why on earth his brother thought that was an important thing to mention at that moment. Dean quickly changed the subject.

"Never mind. Get in, blondie."

"Oi! Bloody Buffy..."

"Hey, HEY!" The younger brother hastily stepped in between the two men, who had begun to face up to one another in a threatening manner, both of their faces as infuriated as each other. Sam was naturally extremely reluctant to deal with a fist fight between them - no matter how eager he was to get rid of the vampire, they had promised to help him. Also, there could be serious consequences if they killed someone who wasn't in his own time. They'd screwed with time on enough occasions already and only just managed to sort it. Therefore, the logical brother couldn't help but intervene. "Cut it out, okay! I refuse to get in that car with you if all you're gonna do is argue the whole journey. So just accept your differences and get over it! Jeez..."

In response, both the hunter and the vampire hung their heads, ashamed at their immaturity, before mumbling 'sorry' and stepping into the Impala. Throughout the whole scenario, Crowley had simply sat inside the car, silently observing the amusing squabble, as was his job. Once everyone was placed in the car, Spike blatantly pulled a packet of cigarettes from inside his leather coat, selected one and flipped on a lighter. However, just as he was about to light up, Dean reached behind him and snatched the fag from between the vampire's lips.

"Hey! What are you-"

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you want to set my car on fire? Don't answer that." The older Winchester yelled, absolutely furious with the outrageous creature. Manually rolling down his window, he violently threw out Spike's cigarette, his face in a permanent grumpy pout.

"Well, actually, you never said anything about not smoking." The vampire retorted pedantically, smirking slightly at his snide remark, yet his small victory didn't last long, since he was still annoyed about losing a precious cig. He was already short of cash, plus smoking was his only form of entertainment nowadays, apart from watching soap operas on his tiny television back in his crypt. "Also, would you give me a blanket?"

Dean sighed, making it more than clear he couldn't stand more questions from Spike, however if it would shut him up, it was worth answering him. "What do you want that for? If you wanna take a nap, don't expect comfort in here."

"What? Do you know anything about vampires at all?" When Dean didn't reply, Spike simply scoffed and carried on. "Well you must be some pretty terrible hunters-"

"Listen, douchebag, do you want a blanket or not?" The older Winchester finally snapped again - it hadn't taken long.

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist, mate. Thing is, the sun's gonna come up while we're still driving, and I don't exactly appreciate natural light." The vampire explained it as delicately as possible.

"What are you gonna do, sparkle?"

"More like sizzle. I'd rather stay raw instead of well done, understand?"

Rolling his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Dean braked and hopped out of the Impala (they hadn't even exited the parking lot yet), striding over to the boot. He slammed it closed with more force than was necessary when he was done, almost as if he was making a point. Regaining his rightful place in the driver's seat, Dean purposely aimed the tartan blanket at Spike's face as he chucked it at him.

"There. Now don't bother me again, okay?" The engine roared back to life.

Spike caught Crowley's eye briefly, and they exchanged a grin. Meanwhile, in the front of the car, Sam rested his head against the frame of the window; he could feel a headache coming on, and the unbearable tension in the car wasn't helping. Dean notched up the volume on the stereo as he punched the 'on' button, causing the first few beats of an ACDC song to reverberate throughout the compressed atmosphere. He was just managing to contain his rage and frustration by blocking out the world with his music while he tightly gripped the steering wheel and concentrated on the road ahead. It was going to be a long journey.


	5. Bunker Buddies

Like everything in life, the journey came to an end eventually. Dean practically leapt out of the Impala, eager to escape the pressurised space he had been forced to share with possibly the most irritating vampire and definitely most irritating demon he had ever met in his entire life of hunting similarly foul creatures. They had been travelling for around a day, therefore Spike's blanket was significantly useful throughout the daylight hours, which had started a few hours previous by the time they arrived - it was around ten o'clock in the morning. Sam clambered out of the car, stretching his long limbs; in that moment it was understandable why Crowley always referred to him as a moose. Spike would have seen this, however he was concentrating on covering any piece of vulnerable skin with his blanket as he dashed madly to the bunker entrance. Both Winchester brothers simply stared incredulously at the ridiculous vampire with one eyebrow raised, while Crowley nonchalantly exited the vehicle and strolled over to them.

"Place isn't too bad, I suppose." Spike remarked on arriving inside the bunker at last. For once he wasn't apathetically and outrightly insulting something of the Winchesters. "It's a bit too spacious for my liking - I prefer my comfy crypt. But still."

"Ha ha, funny." Dean commented sarcastically, before continuing to set a few things straight. "Right, Sam and I are gonna get some research done, so you two can just chill and do whatever. Though when I say chill, I mean sit where we can see you. And by 'do whatever', I mean don't do whatever. Don't try any weird spells, any attempted murder, anything dark or just dodgy in general. And please, for the sake of everyone's sanity, would you try to keep quiet?"

"Of course, as you wish, anything you say, blah, blah." Spike 'agreed', causing Crowley to smile once again. The vampire turned to his demonic friend, lowering his voice slightly. "Is this guy so uptight all the time?"

"You bet."

"Bloody hell." Spike shook his head in disbelief. "How- No, why do you put up with him?"

"What can I say? He's useful. And they really can be amusing, believe it or not. Now, shall we make ourselves comfortable?" The King of Hell gave his mate a seductive glance as he led the way over to one of the elegantly vast mahogany tables in the main hallway of the bunker, where they sat opposite one another. Meanwhile, the two brothers gathered a couple of piles of lore books from the expansive Men of Letters' collection and sprawled over the table adjacent to Crowley and Spike, right on the other end of the table so the two pairs were still in the same room, but as far away from each other as possible. After around ten minutes of silence, with the exception of the soft crinkle of pages being turned over and Spike tapping his black nail polish adorned fingers on the wood, the restless vampire spoke up.

"Hey, you got a telly?" He called, his yobbish English accent harshly echoing around the bunker like a basketball trying to score a hoop. "Passions is on and you REALLY won't like me if I miss it-"

"What did I tell you about shutting up?" The older Winchester retorted, a husky undertone to his voice to emphasise his cantankerousness.

"Nothing, technically."

"Holy-" Dean began, then took a deep breath of self-control, dragging both hands the full length of his face in a 'give me strength' gesture before continuing. "Just... Stop talking."

For once, the vampire couldn't think of (or couldn't be bothered to think of) a witty reply, therefore he simply sat back in his chair and pursed his lips together in that irritated pout he does when he knows he's the losing participant in an argument. And so the group slipped back into an uncomfortable silence, wherein the two antagonistic creatures held a purely mimical conversation about how annoying the Winchesters are, meanwhile the brothers themselves attempted to rush through the lore books hastily so they could be rid of the facetious vampire as soon as possible.

* * *

"Here! I think I've got something!" Willow Rosenberg suddenly exclaimed, rising from her seat while she kept her finger on the correct paragraph in the magic book she was holding. Xander glanced up at her while Giles immediately sprung across the room and pounced upon the newly discovered (to them, anyway) information. "I-it says that first we have to cast a location spell to find exactly where Spike is, a-and then there's a retrieval spell underneath. Is this it, Giles?"

"It could very well be. I suppose it's worth a try nevertheless." The ex-watcher confirmed. After scanning the book for a few seconds, he continued. "All the ingredients listed here I already have. Buffy, there's no need for you to go to the magic shop."

"Sure, okay." The Slayer replied, as Giles dashed about back and forth, rooting around in his excess of cupboards as he gathered the requirements for the spell.

"Right, this shouldn't take long..." Once he had finished preparing, he placed himself beside Willow and they took it in turns to recite incantations from the book. Giles was right; it didn't take long for something to occur...

* * *

Back in the bunker, the situation was exactly the same. Sam and Dean were no closer to finding anything to do with vampires (or creatures of any kind, for that matter) being teleported into the future using magic, and Spike was restless as ever.

"I like your coat." Crowley whispered to his friend, reluctant to infuriate the Winchesters if it only resulted in the possibility of them both being killed.

"Cheers, mate. The whole black clothes look? It suits you. Then again, you are a demon, so it shouldn't surprise me that it does." Spike replied, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he chatted with his mate. If only he could take Crowley back to Sunnydale with him...

"Mind if I...?" The King of Hell half-asked, and the vampire somehow understood that he wanted to explore the fabric of his coat in a tactile manner.

"Sure, go ahead. But don't try anything funny." They both grinned.

"Leather. It's very well-tailored, I have to say." Crowley remarked as he rubbed his fingers against the material. "My tailor got eaten by demons. I miss him." He continued with one of those sentences that only make sense to demons and monsters, in and out of context.

"Too bad. I stole this from a slayer I killed, as a trophy. I'm not sure why I like it so much, really. I suppose it makes me feel dramatic."

"We antagonists. Always loving the melodrama, am I right?"

"Damn right you are." The pair chuckled to themselves, as if being amused by an inside joke, which it sort of was. However, the calm, comfortable atmosphere was shortly disturbed. Just before Crowley removed his outstretched hand from Spike's coat, an odd smoke of some kind diffused upwards from the ground, engulfing the duo in its entirety.

"What in the bloody-" Spike began, however he was cut off when him and the demon abruptly vanished from the room, smoke and all.

Silence descended in the bunker as Sam and Dean both whipped their heads in the direction of the missing creatures, dropping the lore books in utter shock and bewilderment. A moment later, once the occurrence had sunk into their skulls, the older Winchester was the first to comment.

"Wow. That's the best luck we've had in about, what, nine years?" He grinned, not even bothering to question the disappearance of the two most irritating people he had ever met, for the very reason that they were too irritating to miss.

"Huh." Was all Sam could muster up.


	6. Home At Last?

In Giles' place, the Scoobies all stood in a circle surrounding a cleared-out space in which they were reluctantly anticipating the arrival of a certain vampire. Willow had finished the incantation around half a minute ago, which was slightly concerning since the result of spells generally occurred instantly.

"Uh, guys? I-I don't think it-" Willow began, however she was rapidly (and ironically) interrupted by a plume of smoke rising up from the ground and enveloping a shadowed figure - or was it... figures? Plural?

As the smoke cleared, it quickly became evident that Spike wasn't the only person who had been brought back by the spell. A short man clad in a completely black suit and long coat (but not as dramatic as Spike's) wearing a smugly nonchalant expression.

"Hello boys... and girls, it seems." He spoke automatically to his new audience, who greeted him with perplexed and vaguely terrified faces. Willow, probably feeling responsible for his arrival, was the first to speak up.

"Um... H-hi, mister! Are you a-a demon or something? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. I-I just-"

"Look, Red, and everyone, he is a demon." Spike interrupted, figuring he'd have to intervene before it was too late for him to. He looked at everyone in turn while he was explaining. "He's my mate and he helped me get about in the future, so there'll be no slaying, alright?" His final words were directed at Buffy, who was stood in the foreground in a stance that proved she was ready to protect her friends and fight the demon if necessary.

"And why should we believe you?" The Slayer questioned the vampire, raising her eyebrows in suspicion as she awaited a decent answer. Spike rolled his eyes and scrunched his lips together in a display of irritation, however he knew he had no choice but to reply.

"Think about it, Slayer. If he'd have wanted to kill you, he would have tried something already."

Buffy remained silent, folding her arms across her chest in annoyance.

"You're only going in a Buffy sulk because you know I'm right, isn't that so?" The vampire mimicked the Slayer's stance by also folding his arms and lifting his eyebrows in a mocking yet challenging fashion.

"Shut up, Spike. This is your fault anyway."

"My- Hah! How is this my fault?"

"Totally is. If it weren't for you, this never would have happened."

"Maybe you should tell your witch here to lock her dorm room next time. That's the reason for this whole damn-"

"Oh dear Lord, will you both pack it in?!" Giles intervened, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Our main priority here is to get this... demon back to his own time. You have plenty of time for arguing later."

"Oh it's fine by me. Every moment away from the Winchesters is greatly appreciated." The demon piped up, smiling warmly (or as warm as he was capable of anyhow) at the group.

"Ah, er yes, I'm sure, however we do need to get you back, I'm afraid." Giles replied awkwardly.

"So, uh, what kind of demon are you?" Xander asked casually.

"Former crossroads demon. Current King of Hell." Crowley answered bluntly, rather looking forward to the reactions of his new audience. They were certainly interesting, to say the least.

"Wait, so in the future, the big bad who rules over the entire underworld is British? How did that happen? Did you seduce the demons with your sarcasm?" Xander was bold enough to be the first to comment, figuring witty remarks was the only way to converse with such creatures. Willow simply sat there looking apologetic (even she wasn't sure what for) while Giles shook his head and strolled across the room to his bookcase, and Buffy was still glaring at Spike.

"You could say that." The King of Hell retorted, clearly so used to the sassy Winchester insults that they no longer bothered him.

"Alright, er, we-we need to find a spell to get this demon- er, what's your name?" Giles began, being surprisingly polite to the imposter. Then again, he was British, and also probably pretty scared of the consequences of being cheeky to the future King of Hell.

"Crowley."

"Ah, yes of course. Wait a second, Bernard Crowley? The-the watcher? No, of course not... Where was I? Oh, er, we need to get you back to- back to your own time. Buffy, Xander, you can go to the magic shop and get some supplies - there's a list on the kitchen worktop. Willow and I will look through the books. And Spike?" The blonde vampire reluctantly broke eye contact with Buffy to glare at the other British man in the room (of which there were now three), looking as irritated as usual.

"Oh, what." He spat.

"Just... keep out of trouble, would you?"

Spike merely sighed, looking vaguely offended and turning to Crowley. "Come on then, mate, I guess we're back to sitting around watching these ninnies getting nowhere with the books."

"Um, excuse me?" Willow spontaneously piped up, addressing Spike nervously. "You guys could help too, you know."

"Oh, so Red is the boss of me now? I'd keep it down if I were you - my little time travel flit is down to you, after all." The vampire's tone lowered threateningly, however he backed off when Giles stepped slightly in front of the concerned girl, glaring at him.

"Alright, Mr Nancy Librarian. What would you do to me anyway?"

"More than you could. You seem to have forgotten your chip." At that, Spike pursed his lips together, unable to generate an adequate argument in reply.

"Okay, I'm done with all this sexual tension so I'm leaving." Buffy stated blatantly. "Come on, Xander, we'll go to the magic shop. Later, Giles." She hastily grabbed her jacket (and Xander's arm) and they trekked out of Giles' house and across town to the Magic Box. Meanwhile, Willow reached over the desk for another ancient-looking leather bound book. Giles did the same as he folded his limbs, stretching down into one of his wooden dining chairs. Yet again, they had excessive amounts of research ahead of them.


	7. Back To Reality

"You remind me of Moose. All that research that you seem to enjoy so much. Not to mention the general air of nerdiness. It's overwhelming." The King of Hell remarked once the (evidently) most dangerous person in the room, aka. the Slayer, had departed. The demon had latched onto the observation that Giles was more than a little terrified of him, plus the redhead didn't seem too threatening, so he figured he wasn't in any danger. Nevertheless, the ex-watcher still found himself automatically tutting while removing his glasses (yet again). He also instantly realised that he wouldn't get any peace while the two demons were in the room constantly making irritating and insulting comments - not that Giles ever got offended by them, it was just rather annoying while he was trying to research. Therefore, he decided to act on it now, before he got too infuriated by them.

"Right, Willow, do you want to take Mr, er, Crowley and maybe Spike on a tour of the house? Start with the kitchen. Or just go upstairs, anywhere but here." Willow gave Giles a confused and questioning look, so he beckoned her over.

"Look," He spoke in a low voice, ensuring that the terrible duo wouldn't hear. "I don't think I'll be able to stand them both lurking about in here a moment longer. Just keep an eye on them, make sure they don't destroy my belongings."

"What about the research? I want to help." Willow replied, gazing up at the watcher.

"Don't worry, I can handle it on my own. Besides, I-I might be getting somewhere. Thank you ever so much." As Giles expressed his ultimate gratitude, he steered the girl towards Spike, who was lounging about with one eyebrow raised.

"Um... Hey." Willow greeted them awkwardly. "If you'd like to, er, follow me?" As the unlikely trio mooched upstairs, the redhead caught Giles' eye on the way, looking extremely anxious. The librarian simply gave a thumbs-up gesture in reply, reassuring her with his unrelenting confidence in her. Back he turned to his collection of ancient witchcraft material as he situated his metal-rimmed glasses back on his face. He wasn't actually lying when he'd comforted Willow; he was rather close to a solution. He had a theory, nevertheless.

* * *

Across town, the Slayer and her faithful companion were on their way back from the magic shop, after having collected the required supplies. Xander, being the bubbly one, naturally instigated a conversation.

"Hey, Buff? What do you think of all this?"

Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced at her friend. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it just seems kinda suspicious, that's all." When Buffy still looked uncomprehending, Xander sighed and attempted to explain. "Look, Willow's spell goes wrong and Spike disappears, fair enough. We do a spell to get him back, still fine. But then he turns up with someone he says is a demon - the King of Hell, of all the demons he could have found - and they don't try to kill us? Not exactly Spike's nature, is it?"

"I see your point, but Spike still can't hurt us. Plus, I guess they wouldn't have had enough time to plot against us if they only just met, especially if it was in the future - it's also not in Spike's nature to trust people, particularly demons. Anyway, even if they do try anything, we've got it."

"Yeah. Sure we have. I just... really don't like Spike, okay?" Xander justified his doubts.

"I hear ya." The friends were silent for a moment, then Buffy began to chuckle, much to Xander's surprise. When he gave her a puzzled look and she still didn't stop laughing, he had to speak up.

"Um, Buff? Buffy?" Still no sign of her giggling fit letting up. "Okay, is there something in that magic bag of goodies that causes your friends to go crazy? 'Cause it sure seems like it."

After a few seconds, the Slayer finally pulled herself together and terminated her laughter enough to reply to her friend. "I'm sorry... It's just... It's so funny..."

"What? What's funny about this?" For once, Xander was the one unable to make humour out of a situation.

"Spike... And Crowley..."

"What about them?"

"Two British demons that are practically the same in personality, are just here, and Giles has to babysit them, and it's just... I don't even know." By this point, Buffy had finally stopped her hysterics and was wiping her eyes. Before Xander could comment, she spoke again.

"Mention a word of this to anyone, and I swear I'll send you back to 2014 with Crowley."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Giles' place, Willow and Crowley were rather awkwardly perched on the edge of a bed in the ex-watcher's spare bedroom. Spike was striding around the room with general arrogance, blatantly snooping around, probably for blackmail material. The King of Hell had just been educating Willow on his past, therefore she was naturally pretty concerned.

"...and then the bloody Hardy boys turned up on my mansion doorstep, expecting to just pluck the Colt from me! The cheek of it! I mean, I was just going to give them it anyway, of course, but still. Worst day of my life, deciding to help them for the first time. Course, now they take me for granted-" The demon halted his outburst abruptly, then sighed while the Wicca looked all the more frightened. "Ah." He continued, somewhat calmer this time. "Sorry, the human blood makes me awfully emotional sometimes. It's disgusting. Bloody Winchesters got me addicted as well. Now they expect me to stop, just like that. Unbelievable, they are."

"I hear you, mate." The vampire unexpectedly chipped in, moving over to stand right in front of them. Willow subconsciously leaned back a little. "Got captured by these commando nancies a couple months back. They implanted a chip in my noggin - now I can't even hurt a human, let alone bite. It's pathetic."

"WILLOW! SPIKE! ER, CROWLEY!" An overtly British accent sprinted up the stairs, alerting the group when it reached their ears. Practically jumping up, Willow was eager to finally have something to do rather than keep demons occupied.

"Oh! We should probably go downstairs - don't want to keep Giles waiting, huh!" The girl smiled nervously, leading the way down.

Crowley glanced confusedly at his companion. "Is she always this on edge?"

"Only around people like you and me." Spike replied, winking at the demon before strolling after the witch.

"Willow, come here, I think this is it." Giles spoke softly once everyone was in the room. He studied Willow's expressions as she herself studied the text in the witchcraft book he held. Her face revealed he was correct before she even told him. Also, as she opened her mouth to speak, the front door burst open as Buffy and Xander returned with magical supplies.

"Ah, perfect." The librarian grinned at the sight, welcoming the Slayer in. Before long, the spell for Crowley's return was prepared (it was definitely not the same one that Willow had used in the first place). The Scoobies all stood in a polite circle surrounding the King of Hell - not in a satanic ritual, we-all-worship-you-dark-lord kind of way - apart from Spike, who stood in the background, hesitant.

"A-Alright then, shall we, er, begin?" Giles attempted to instigate the group effort for magic, however Crowley piped up.

"Hold your horses, mate." He peered over the youngsters so his dear vampire buddy was in sight. "Hey, Spike! Aren't you gonna say your farewells?"

"Yeah, Spike. Say goodbye to your little friend." Buffy couldn't resist having a dig at her sworn enemy in an extremely patronising tone. Spike simply glared at her with a 'I'll get you after this, Slayer' vibe, before addressing Crowley.

"Er, see ya then." When made aware of the demon's affronted expression, the vampire scrambled to explain himself. "Sorry mate. Don't do goodbyes."

"Ah. I see. Well, neither do I." Desperate to regain his compromised dignity, the King of Hell hastily added the last sentence as a rebound. After sharing one final glance, Crowley turned back to the Scoobies. "So. Are we going to get this done, or are you ridiculous children just going to stand there like lemons forever?"

At that, Giles mumbled a 'ah yes, of course', neglecting to mention the fact that Crowley had been the one to hold the process up in the first place. The watcher scrambled for the correct page in his book, then followed the words of the incantation with his finger while he read it out. Before he had chance to look up from the book, the King of Hell promptly vanished without further comment. (The other Scoobies had been watching while Crowley disappeared, therefore later on they reported that his final seductive glance had been aimed at Spike nonetheless.)

"Well, I suppose that's another adventure over for the time being." Giles remarked, hastily darting across the room to return the book to the shelf which beheld his life-long collection.

"You got that right. Though not for me, I guess - I'm gonna head out to patrol with Riley, it's getting dark pretty quick. Later, Giles. And I'll see you guys tomorrow." Buffy replied as she grabbed her denim jacket and headed out.

Spike suddenly leapt out. "Hey, don't I get a goodbye?"

"Shut up, Spike." The Slayer and her watcher retorted in unison, a second before she slammed the door shut.

"Honestly. No one ever appreciates us demons." The vampire muttered to himself, though it was indirectly aimed at the remaining Scoobies in the room, of course.

For another few seconds, everyone simply stood where they were and stared at Spike, who glared back in a petulant manner. "What?" He challenged.

"Aren't you, er, leaving? Quite frankly I can't stand the sight of you." Giles interceded, much to Xander's amusement. Spike rolled his eyes in blatant exasperation.

"Weren't you listening to your Slayer? It's not quite dark yet - do you want me to burn? Don't answer that." The vampire internally cringed when he realised he'd just used a similar speech mannerism to the shorter, not-moose man from 2014, however obviously no one in the room noticed this, having not met Dean Winchester. Instead, Giles merely removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes briefly, while Willow continued to pack away the research books and Xander was just... well, Xander.

"Hey, uh, Spike." The most humourous of the Scoobies couldn't help speaking up.

"What now, you ponce?"

"Are you and Crowley, like, related or something? You're both British and sarcastic - okay, I guess they're sort of a two-for-one deal - and you're both really annoying-"

"Alright, that's enough, mate. And the only reason you find me annoying is because you just can't take a bit of truthful insulting once in a while." Spike shot back at the boy as a knee-jerk reaction. "Anyway, I can tell when I'm not wanted. It's dark enough, I'd rather take my chances than stay here with you bloody idiots." At that, the vampire swished around dramatically and stormed out the front door, his black leather coat billowing behind him.

* * *

Fourteen years later, in the Men of Letters' bunker, the King of Hell materialised in front of Sam and Dean's very eyes, in the exact same spot from which he had vanished, an elusive poof of white smoke rapidly dissipating along with his appearance. The younger Winchester jumped slightly in his seat at one of the grand tables, startled, however the older brother simply turned his head towards the demon and glared.

"Oh. You're back." Dean sounded more than vaguely disappointed. He was hoping Crowley would have been trapped in the past with his stupid new boyfriend forever, but no such luck.

"Nice to know I'm wanted. No 'how was your trip'? 'I'm really glad you didn't get brutally murdered or stuck there'? Lovely. Well, at least I know I'm back in Winchester territory." Sighing, the King of Hell shrugged and strolled a couple of steps closer to the brothers.

"I'm guessing Spike's back with his – what was it again? oh yeah – 'gang of absolute losers'." The older brother quoted sarcastically in the most outrageously bad English accent ever to be recorded, while Sam couldn't resist a small smile of amusement.

"Unfortunately, yes. He was better company than you two could ever hope to be."

"We wouldn't hope to be good company, Crowley. Not for you." The younger brother chipped in, and Dean gave him an approving smirk for his sass. "Anyway, we can't really let you go off on your own again, not after your blood addiction has gone this far. I'm sorry." Crowley followed Sam's gaze to underneath the demon's feet, where a devil's trap had been hastily drawn. Luckily for him, since the sigil had been rushed, Crowley noticed a slight crack in the floor which ran perfectly through the outer circle, breaking the temporary prison.

"Might want to watch your drawing skills and floor patterns next time, boys. Ciao." Due to the obsolescence of the failed devil's trap, the King of Hell wiggled his fingers and gave a sly grin as he teleported away.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I hope you enjoyed this fic, I certainly enjoyed writing it (seriously, I love writing banter between Spike and everyone, and Crowley and everyone). Please favourite and follow, and reviews are awesome too :)**


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